


Breach

by Anonymous



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Angst, Homophobia, Invisible Kingdom | Revelation Route, Leo isn't, M/M, Metaphors, Self-Harm, Strategist Leo, Suicidal Thoughts, Swordmaster Takumi, Takumi is gay, This doesn't change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-10 23:26:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12310098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Falling in love during a war is a futile effort, and if Takumi knew this from the start he wouldn't have let down his guard.





	Breach

If Takumi were to describe love, he might liken it to a vast expanse of water. One with the chance to explore it might find for himself fortune beyond compare, knowledge otherwise indiscoverable—else he may just become lost and surrender his spirit to the depths. Such a risk is what explorers of the day undertook, not knowing when or whether they would be able to next rest on soil, to find reprieve from the rocking of the seas, its incessant vacillations. To set off on such a journey is to leave oneself at the mercy of nature, as the moon commands the waves to move any which way—at times exacerbated by wind and storm—all independent of whether the traveler is falling ill, and not giving a damn of where he is or where he is trying to go. Uncontrollable, unpredictable. One has no way of assuredly protecting himself from that which he does not know, and thus from the start he is vulnerable and already at a disadvantage.

 

Takumi had tried to protect himself from a similar helplessness. He had been building walls for years. He excelled at this now—what trouble was one or two more? He did not think it would be hard; Prince Leo was a detestable character from day one. He carried with him a pretentious air, nose stuck up high, hands behind his back as if he would not even need them should anyone have challenged him. Why did someone like him—why did a family like _his_ get to spend all these stolen years together with Takumi's sibling after war ravaged his country and his family? How did these savages manage to ultimately raise this person to become someone blindingly optimistic and bright? This isn't right—they _are_ evil, Takumi is sure of it. He wants nothing to do with them, and he tells this to that arrogant, headband-wearing bastard's face. How convenient, he shares the same sentiment.

 

The next time the two princes come in contact is by coincidence and circumstance. Both had been obeying the terms of their agreement, but alas, the infirmary tent is not made of glass, and it is in poor judgment to leave a place of healing when blood is seeping out of unnatural orifices and excoriations that would take more than some spit and grit to get over. Takumi imagines he looks weak, and Leo probably sees him as such, too, for he asks what trouble Takumi dived into to wind up here. He tells Leo, but not without reminding the other prince that he must have been just as stupid to wind up in a similar situation. And, surprisingly, Leo admits that Takumi is right. He berates himself for his mistake, more than Takumi would have himself—as harsh as Takumi would have been on himself. But Leo also asserts that he will learn from his mistakes so they won't happen again. Leo shifts his hands, holding them still on his lap, and it brings Takumi's attention to the fact that they had been trembling just a moment ago. No one can possibly be without fear during a war, and while Takumi recalls his own weakness wind breaks against the walls he had put up previously, carrying seeds of doubt which appear harmless now and settle irretrievably into newfound crevices.

 

Harmless is the liquor that the army imbibes the night of a victory—a turning point. The booze serves as a method to temporarily forget pain and welcome joy, as artificial as it may be. Training will wait one night, and keeping up morale in an otherwise glum situation is crucial, so tonight the army celebrates. Cheers ring through the crowd as it raises glass upon glass, several clinking against those adjacent to them. There is dancing and jokes and storytelling, and Takumi sees Leo loosening up and acting like a genuine fool for a change in the company of his retainers and his siblings. Leo notices he is being watched, and makes his way over to the offending party. He slings an arm over Takumi's shoulder, gives him a jovial little shake, and commends him for his quick thinking earlier in the day, praising him for using his brain and not getting himself killed. Takumi thinks Leo is too frank in he manner of speech, but because he is just as inebriated he lets the newly-sprouted roots in his walls ingrain themselves deeper, until cracks form in the stones and he can't care about it, and he tells Leo he wasn't too bad himself.

 

Perhaps their mutual favor of particular foods and hobbies is, again, coincidence; but their future meetings are premeditated. They review strategies, play games under the pretense of practicing strategies. Takumi finds that Leo is not quite so intolerable—rather, he seems to have a surprisingly good head on his shoulders for a Nohrian. He is sharp and decisive in a way that Takumi wishes he could be, even though Leo suggests that Takumi is already adroit in his thinking. Strangely, Takumi finds himself arguing with someone over who is _worse_ at something—some clumsy, roundabout attempt to compliment an ally. This does not impair their efforts, however. Rather, they try harder, fight harder, celebrate their victories harder. Leo hesitates on a certain occasion and asks Takumi what they are, if Takumi realizes what's going on between them. They're friends, Leo says. Takumi accepts this and thinks it might be okay to let the vines continue to grow into his walls; they are only on the surface and seem harmless, after all.

 

He is wrong. Takumi is made to fight alongside Leo in a land of invisible allies and gravity-defying fractures of land. It's surreal, but Takumi doesn't let his focus waver. He keeps up his guard, vigilant of danger from all sides—hyperaware, knowing that anything less risks death. And he thinks he is doing well in the beginning; he and Leo are relatively unscathed. But Takumi's walls are also a part of his guard and because the bits of feelings that have made home in him have been eroding stone since the day he let Leo come near, Leo becomes his weakness. Takumi sees his friend nearly suffer a blow and acts in the nick of time to save him, enabling Leo to finish off his adversary. But when their eyes meet, why does Leo look at Takumi as if _he_ is the one hurt? Why is everything around Takumi blurring and why is chest heaving, his heart pounding so hard? How come Leo has to ask why Takumi is crying? Takumi swears. It should be obvious: he's scared. It's then that Takumi learns that the wall he'd put up against Leo is a dam standing against rising waters, and emotions he doesn't want are slowly seeping through the cracks.

 

Takumi is scared of things that are out of his control. He is afraid of the unknown, the uncertain, the seemingly fleeting whims of gods and fate. He doesn't know if he was born this way or otherwise when it was acquired, but he had a suspicion, and he doesn't like where his associations with Leo are leading him. Takumi doesn't want to blame himself for this attachment. It has to be Leo's fault for fulfilling criteria Takumi didn't even know—hell, still _doesn’t_ even know—could make him feel anything alluding to love. He can't place what it is about Leo that unsettles him. Is it his looks? Average, for royalty. His status? Equal—Takumi occupies a similar position. His charm? Oh, could Takumi laugh at that one. But what, then? Takumi is fretting over these matters that seem so trivial during a war, when Leo approaches him, asks why he looks as if he hasn't been sleeping well lately, why Takumi has seemed reclusive compared to his usual provocative attitude. Leo says this somewhat menacingly, but when he tells Takumi to take care of himself he sincerely asks him to do it for his sake and that of the army, if not for Takumi's own self. Leo doesn't accuse, doesn't pry, as if he understands the pressure, but he understands this type of anxiety wrong. Takumi is sure Leo wouldn't treat him the same if he knew the way his walls were cracking and crumbling aside the weight of his feelings. So he tries to reinforce these, brings back that distant attitude he had practiced in the beginning, knowing it is futile this far in, but trying nonetheless because he does not want to lose Leo.

 

Leo resents this space. He tells Takumi he is being unreasonable—that he is acting like a child, trying to get his own way and not considering others. The vines that once seemed harmless are still digging their roots deeper and deeper into Takumi defenses. Now they pry, now they grow angry and aggressive into the walls that Takumi had put up in vain, to the point that what were once leaks become streams. And once they become streams, it isn't long until the force of rushing water pushes what's been eroded aside, until undesired, useless feelings flood Takumi to such a point of frustration that he breaks and asks Leo if he could understand what it is like to fall in love. Does Leo dream of falling in love? Because Takumi fears it. Of course he would. Here he stands, weak and vulnerable in front of a man he once hated, putting his heart at risk of being crushed into bits and pieces because he doesn't choose who he falls in love with, and he still doesn't know why.

 

But he doesn't tell Leo _who_ makes him fear it. He will let Leo think he is insensible and pessimistic—not that that's any different from what it was in the beginning. Leo can ask Takumi why he would hate something so beautiful and life-giving, and none of it would reach Takumi because he already knows that the love he believes in is different than what Leo does. He has seen it in way Leo looks at the women in camp in spite of the way he tries to hide it. Takumi is sure Leo would be disgusted with him no matter how close they've become. It shouldn't matter—the middle of a war is no place to fall in love. But there are holes in the walls that were meant to keep away the pain, and every time he thinks of the way Leo would look at him if he knew, every break in his defenses hurts him like the twist of a knife in his heart and his head. Maybe the two are fighting against each other, for Takumi surely knows what his heart wants, but his mind will vehemently refuse to give it what it wants because this is not the time or place, nor is this the right way to love.

 

Takumi hides what he truly thinks, trying to salvage what he can of what he has with Leo as a friend. Takumi lies, expecting the ordeal to blow over like winds doing little else than picking up sand, and he thinks his walls will hold up for some time more. He will laugh at Leo's jokes and listen to his worries and support him for the sake of keeping things as they are—to prevent them from worsening, because Takumi doesn't know how much more he can take, as his emotions are leaving him in a precarious position.

 

Precarious, indeed.

 

Of all the burdens to have in a time of war, the least of which should be the desire for sexual acts. People might want for love—Who knows what day may be one's last?—but Takumi finds this to be a shameful thing to occupy one's mind in such dire times. Still, Takumi is at that age where these sinful thoughts creep into his mind and grab hold of him with clawed fingers, tempting him with the idea of quick, blissful release—escape. He gives in, knowing there's no other outlet for him; this escape is his only, and though it is but a temporary salvation, it is one he sorely needs. Quick indeed, he need not think of it in the morning, just as long as he fixes this himself this night. But Takumi is flawed. He doesn't think of what men should think of touching themselves. What disgusting fool would find satisfaction in the embrace of another man? Why does the thought of his supposed friend lead him closer to his escape—why does the thought of Leo's hands over the skin of his neck, his chest, his abdomen— _gods_ , his wrists, pinned to the floor until fingers lace themselves with his own and a mouth eats up his moans like they are sweet delicacies—make Takumi feel like he is on fire, until he comes hard over his stomach, spilling over his right hand; and he hates himself immediately after his short-lived euphoria fades.

 

He can barely face Leo afterward. Takumi feels filthy, a disappointment of a prince. There is nothing to be expected from him, he imagines that he will only produce an heir out of necessity, preceded by a loveless marriage—hopefully one with political benefit so his life isn't a complete waste. Maybe he does not really need to do any of this; his older brother is the high prince of Hoshido, anyways, and if he is gone then surely Hinoka will be next in line simply due to her age. Maybe Takumi truly does not matter, maybe he is really a vile existence, and as he stares at the waters that only continue to rise as they flow so enviably free, he gets the feeling that he is drowning, and considers whether the kiss of death makes for a better wish than the lips of a man he can never have.

 

Takumi's faculties suffer fron the stress. He nearly gets himself killed in a battle, making a high risk, high yield decision that puts him against a number of foes that he thinks he can beat but isn't completely sure. Insubordination is something he himself would never have tolerated, and he insults himself now when he acts against Corrin's commands. Maybe his choice had a subconscious component: he knows he is wrong but he also is aware that he no longer values his life—if he could ever truly say he did. Weakening walls, weakening defenses, weakening body, mind, spirit. He wants to win the war but he also is tired of fighting, but in this particular regard he is much like everyone else in the army, and this is why Takumi feels he must keep his troubles to himself. Everyone is suffering. He has no right to whine about the condition of mankind. Hell, they're fighting the dead. Perhaps the wrath of lost souls are stronger. Takumi imagines he could rise strong amongst them, but with wavering confidence it is hard to say so.

 

Takumi makes it out alive, but not without intervention from Leo. He grips Takumi’s arm roughly, asks if Takumi has lost his mind, if he has any idea how much of an asset he is, how critical his survival is to the army. He insists that Takumi is important, and expresses his disappointment—how he thought that Takumi was smart enough to know that he meant something to people. Oh, but Leo is wrong, Takumi snaps back, ripping his arm from Leo’s grasp. Leo is wrong, because if he knew what the hell was going through Takumi’s mind he would surely turn his back on him. Leo denies this, saying he has come to find the good things in Takumi's nature, and appreciates his company now. Leo asks what has been plaguing him, with a look so gentle it wrings Takumi's heart, and with it the wall that Takumi has so often relied on to prevent any and all of this crumbles—breaks horribly, stone rolling down after stone, dust flying with every new crack that forms under the now impossible weight of his feelings. What else can Takumi do than answer, “You. You, Leo, have been my demise.” And Takumi is positive that Leo will revile him thereafter.

 

He is right.

 

Ah, could fate have been crueler! A man who hates to be in love falls for his sworn enemy, finds himself weak and helpless before him, as the man looks upon him with scorn, albeit a pitiful sort. He is sorry, Leo says, but he cannot hide the disgust in his expression, the confusion in his tone. Waters rise and Takumi has no defense against them nor the man who was once and is perhaps no longer his friend, who attempts to reassure him that they will remain allies, but Takumi knows this is only out of circumstance, necessity. Takumi is sure that if Leo had the choice now he would decline any association with him, and this is only confirmed by the brusque manner with which Leo dismisses himself. Waters flow over, flooding, and Takumi considers whether a quick, swift death would be less painful than drowning; perhaps less pathetic than grasping at rubble that floats by. What use is clawing for ground when the ground is not stable?

 

Still, Takumi must live. He begins tallying the days with the tracks of blades he runs down his arms. He has little trouble concealing these; Takumi frequently covers his arms and hands with bracers, tucking his sleeves securely within them—should red bleed through they will hopefully only be visible dry and with intense scrutiny on near-black cloth, and with winter quickly approaching there is hardly a need to show any more skin than necessary. The army need not know. Takumi can still fight, and that is all that matters to them. Takumi wonders whether sanity is truly necessary in war, for just how many people engaged in one can lucidly say that they are resistant to this madness? Say, if rivers ran red, would they be an signal that something is wrong? Would anyone rush to aid? Would the gods take note, and would they have any remorse in swaying people in such a way as to send their life into damnation without their even attempting evil?

 

Takumi must be damned. The first person who learns of his counting is his eldest brother. Ryoma is enraged. He offers no sympathy, only bombards Takumi with questions. Ryoma acts as if Takumi has harmed _him_ instead, for surely if Ryoma was concerned about Takumi his tone would be less harsh, or he would actually look him in the eyes instead of at the bandages and scars. But Takumi shouldn't have expected much more, and rather than being inspired to stop, as his brother willed (or more accurately, demanded) him to, he only finds his mind wandering back to the glare of a blade in dim, flickering candlelight; ending a life, the ending of his own. What a liberation, he imagines.

 

What a shame. Ryoma assumes he knows his brother well enough to consort with his enemies, with he who plagues him most. He has told Leo, of all people, of Takumi's predicament, falsely thinking that they were still friends. Ha, what a ridiculous thought. He is wrong. He is so, so wrong. Leo and Takumi are not friends. They have reverted to enemies. Leo hates Takumi, and Takumi can only think of how the sting of hate is so closely related to the burn of love. Leo asks what in the devil is wrong with him, why Takumi is only finding new ways to neglect himself. With a more sorrowful look, Leo asks if it is his fault. Takumi feels in that moment as if he could spit in his face. _His_ fault? Takumi knew he had always been arrogant, but what kind of person would think he would harm himself over a thing so insignificant as an unrequited love? Is Leo dull enough to forget that his parents are dead, his father killed in a battle years ago and his mother in an act of terrorism that may well have been perpetrated by Leo's king— _father_ , rather? Has he so conveniently forgotten the fact that his nation has kept a sibling of Takumi's estranged for years, that people are shedding blood every day they fight against the unresting bodies of once good people?

 

Enough, Leo says. He extends an open palm toward him, the panic in his voice now gone, evolved into something gentler. "Let me see," he says. Like hell, Takumi thinks, but he strips his bracers and rolls up his sleeves nonetheless because Leo is his weakness, more so when looking at him so pleadingly. Takumi watches as Leo examines where Takumi once bled streams, knowing well enough not to come in contact with the rawest of pains. He offers to heal them and Takumi thinks, ah, this must be the reason Ryoma had brought the matter up with Leo. Do what you want, Takumi mutters, though he gets the feeling that Leo doesn't want anything to do with this matter, or perhaps with Takumi in general, because as his hands glow with healing magic his eyes pool with grief. He must consider this task too important, for he does not take his hands off Takumi: even as the tears roll down his face, he continues imbuing Takumi with healing magic, whispering, "I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." like it's his fault, and Takumi turns his head because he doesn't want to see Leo like this.

 

Takumi does not count the days on his arms thereafter, worried that Ryoma may check on him again and shame him before a larger audience, or that Leo might be summoned once more to treat him—not that his condition is a disease or a fatal wound. Takumi liked to think that his habit was perhaps something preventing him from fatality, a way to cope with the pain inside by translating it to a more concrete, physical sensation, because feelings are confusing and one cannot see nor gauge how much damage they have caused or could cause. Takumi wonders if he still feels what he did for Leo. The whole affair had been a burden—How much easier would it have been to not feel at all? How much simpler would his living have been if only he had never allowed the wind to sweep seeds that would take root in his walls and erode them, how much better they would have held up without the pressure of rising waters? However, Takumi thinks now that the waters have stopped rising. He has found ground, and though it is but a small island of sand—not anything solid—it is better than the thought of treading for an unspecified time, no end to his exhaustion in sight.

 

The end comes upon them—end of the war, that is. What was once Valla becomes an apocalyptic nightmare: a dragon which is an abomination of hells with eyes like no one would have dreamt stares down all of the army at once and then some, flies into the air and generates a black hole where one would think the sun should be placed. Fear grips the army. Ground that seemed to be solid turns out not to be stable, is drawn in by the vortex and becomes something for which its previous existence could be questioned. Enemies are conjured before them like apparitions, though they are real: they can draw blood, inflict pain. Takumi fights, hoping he is freeing trapped souls. He fights alongside his brothers, sisters, friends, and if he looks hard enough he can see Leo fighting on the far side of the platform, sending flames and lightning from a distance, a contrast from Takumi's own fighting style in which he faces his enemies head on, provides them a more intimate sort of death, where he can feel the resistance of a body through every strike of his katana. At least Leo can heal. Takumi only makes wounds.

 

There is a celebration after this battle, but it is solemn. Having seen mother, father risen from the dead only to see them die once more takes a toll on a family. Takumi wants to think that it was a privilege to have been left with some final words, to have some sort of closure. He's glad to have his father say he is proud and his stepmother to say she loves him. But should he really be glad to have had them given and taken away at the drop of a hat (or perhaps a dragon god's slain head)? He decides he will be thankful; it is a good thing to think their souls can now ascend and that they have had their own peace in saying parting words, as opposed to their previous abrupt and sudden goodbye. Takumi is only about halfway through mulling over this when his mind wanders to the Nohrians, how they must feel to have seen their father so openly offer himself to evil, when his children have turned out to have good hearts. He thinks, surely, they must not be of the same lineage—that they couldn't have been raised by him. But Xander endorses that their father was good, once, in a better time. How strong of a corruptive power is necessary for a man to become this way?

 

The end of the war is a weight off everyone. It is a relief to know they will not face battles like those fought just days before, that even if their countries still have tensions there is the hope of the example that Takumi's family and the Nohrian royalty will set for their people, that they can set aside their differences and find something worth collectively fighting for together: peace. Perhaps Takumi is getting sentimental. The more he thinks about it, the more it sinks in. He watches Xander and Ryoma shake hands as they make their truce, sees Elise take both Sakura's hands and exclaim, "Friends!", and catches the smile Hinoka offers Camilla at the same time. So what is Takumi to do with Leo? Well, Leo's still a decent guy, for a Nohrian. So Takumi forgets everything for a bit and gives him a playful shove because he should be a little more relaxed, for everyone else's sake.

 

What's in a dumb little crush? This will blow over. It's already begun. Rather than the anxiety Takumi used to get about being found out or the worry he would have about doing something stupid and embarrassing, he feels a different sort of calm. It’s not like the emptying of mind while staring out into nothingness, but something that can at least be ignored—pushed to the periphery and addressed at another time. Takumi is no longer trying to tread in water, isn't choking on needless emotions. He is no longer trying to claw his way out of something intangible, doesn't need to count the days. He worries whether something similar will repeat itself in the future, but with the end of the war having come upon them, it is a matter for another time. People need them. Bodies must be identified and families notified. Cities will be rebuilt. Those left without their means of subsistence must be aided, lest some disease strike them while they are weak and add to the death toll.

 

Takumi assists Ryoma who is the king of Hoshido. He spends more time with his siblings, noting that they are more pleasant company than during the war, when everyone pretended they weren't always on edge. Ryoma confides in him that he had been thinking of proposing to his love. Takumi is happy for his brother, and encourages him to do so. It's rare to see him find something to be so happy about, after all. But for Takumi there is still something missing, a gaping hole deep in his chest that makes him feel like he is suffocating despite his surplus of air. Maybe it is the mention of a lover, at Ryoma’s fault. Or maybe it is the apparent lack of opportunity. Takumi is certain now that his preferences lean distinctly in one direction. Perhaps the thought of death preoccupied his mind before, but now he wonders how long could he refuse a bride and still avoid public scrutiny. If he perseveres, surely suspicions will arise, and rumors are difficult to curtail.

 

Takumi tries to push his worries and doubts aside, considering these to be of little importance. In the meantime everything heals: his town, his people, the relations between Hoshido and Nohr; Valla, the country that existed, then didn't, then was made anew. Nohr and Hoshido provide what they can to each other, whether it is raw materials or a way to process them, and in between is Valla, a land open to exploration and full of potential. In the months following the war, Takumi devotes his free time to studying government under the recommendation of Ryoma, who had endorsed that Takumi would make a fine adviser. Takumi resents the selfishness displayed by past rulers—greed, lust for power and those who were corrupted by it. He worked under the philosophy that rulers were there to represent their people. They were never simply granted their position based on the will of the gods—divine right is a hoax and a country that truly cares for its people would keep exploitation of labor at a bare minimum, though having everyone predestined to a certain role is unrealistic. He tries to think of how people might choose for themselves, he wants to give people a chance to do what they want to do. He isn't sure if it'll take decades or centuries, but he has dreams and ideas and looks forward to the days where he can see them take root and foster them.

 

Takumi doesn't count, however. Takumi doesn't dread the next day, nor the day after. He finds worth in himself when he meets the people of the city, or in the countryside—when he asks what change they would like to see and when they thank him and his family for their efforts. Not every visit is a good time, but such events happen often enough that Takumi feels that his existence is justified. He wonders where he might be if he hadn't built walls, if he had tried earlier on to empathize, or if he opened up, if he didn't try to shoulder his troubles on his own. Maybe what Takumi feels is uncommon where he comes from, but the few times he has seen unions of man and man or woman and woman have also helped make him feel like his existence is not so repulsive, especially after witnessing that this sort of love is fundamentally the same as any other.

 

Takumi wonders what has become of the greenery that had previously woven itself into his defenses, dug into them with slow but persistent force, breaking them apart until waters could further erode the stone into little else than a small island of sand. Have the vines drowned? Have they withered instead? Because where Takumi stands is free of them. Memories of the man he once loved—or maybe only thought he loved—no longer bring him the same pain in his chest. This is only corroborated by his next meeting with Leo, who, in a break between discussing reform policies and international affairs, takes the time to ask Takumi how he is doing—really and truly. Takumi feels something bittersweet, looking into Leo's honest eyes, concluding that he probably did love him, once upon a time. But now, he offers Leo a smile and tells him he is doing fine; congratulations on the engagement, by the way. Takumi says that he is moving on, and like everyone else he is healing.

 

Tensions have eased. Waters are no longer rising. Takumi doesn't think of drowning, for he now has a ground he can set foot upon, left by the rubble of walls he had previously built and were broken down. It is not anything secure or sustainable, for the next storm could easily flood him again, but today the skies are relatively clear, and Takumi hopes that his previous experience has prepared him for the future: made him a better swimmer, a better survivor. He stands on a small island of hope which could easily crumble, but as of now, he is fine.

 

Valla holds a celebration on the anniversary of the war's end: a ball of sorts, heavily influenced by Corrin's upbringing in Nohr. Being practiced in formalities is a necessity again, as is extensive preparation in manners and dress. It's all a drag, but Takumi's retainers have a good time, as does his family: Ryoma dances with his wife, Hinoka introduces Camilla to her husband, Sakura accepts a dance from a charismatic bachelor (though not without Elise's approval). Takumi watches Leo take a woman's hand and dance with her, sees the glint of a silver band from a slender finger, and while a part of Takumi wants to look away, he takes a few more moments to appreciate how light Leo is on his feet, how the woman with him laughs at his wit, how he gazes at her endearingly, as if her eyes reflect all that’s precious in the world. Takumi feels a twinge of pain somewhere inconcrete, but with it he feels something like hope. Maybe it's the foolishness brought on by the wine, but it is still too early in the night to have had much to drink. Takumi allows himself to entertain thoughts of meeting someone like himself, who would look at him with the same look Leo reserves for his fiancé. What happiness would Takumi find in the company of another?

 

Not much is left to the imagination in this regard.

 

A young man, about his age, maybe a year younger in naiveté and much more in brashness, requests the empty place at Takumi's side, and after some conversation whilst watching the exuberant crowd, he offers a hand to Takumi and asks if he would care for a dance. Takumi realizes that in the wake of everything that's happened, he had forgotten to rebuild his walls. Not that he cares this time, nor does he mind the stares of those nearby as he accepts the man’s offer. He catches the eyes of his siblings, but more than anything they look simply surprised; and he hopes that he is wrong, but Sakura seems to be crying. He casts a quick glance at Leo—or one that was meant to be quick—until Leo’s woman turns to see what has diverted his attention, and he sends Takumi a wink before resuming the evening's dance. The rest of the partygoers gradually follow their lead—Takumi and his new acquaintance included, and the two eventually blend into the sea of people as another pair of human beings searching for love.


End file.
